Page 38 of Lady and the Hitman
He just stepped into view from the shadows and watched me.
His eyes drank me in, slow and thorough. A storm wrapped in a tailored suit. The same white shirt, still unbuttoned at the throat. Hair mussed slightly from the breeze. The glint of a watch at his wrist.
“You look wrecked,” he said.
I swallowed. “I’m trying not to be.”
He stepped closer. His voice dropped, intimate and devastating.
“You’ll fail.”
Then he reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine.
I followed him.
Just like that.
We stepped back into the world, our path winding through the glowing streets of Miami’s waterfront district. Music drifted from open-air lounges. Women in designer heels laughed too loudly over martinis. Men glanced at me and then looked away quickly—maybe sensing something dangerous in the man beside me.
We turned into a side entrance of an upscale restaurant—dimly lit, sleek, expensive. Every table a quiet power play of money and influence. He didn’t check in. Just gave a nod to the host, who guided us to a private corner booth near a wall of glass, the city glittering just beyond.
He let me slide in first, then took the seat beside me—not across. Close. Too close.
The menus were already waiting.
So were his hands.
Not touching, not quite. But one arm rested along the back of the booth, his fingers just barely grazing the bare skin of my upper arm. The touch was nothing. A whisper. A dare.
“Order what you want,” he said. “Or let me choose.”
“I think you like choosing,” I said.
He smiled. “I do.”
He ordered for both of us without asking. Wagyu tartare. Scallops in a champagne reduction. A bottle of red so expensive I pretended not to notice.
The server poured.
His hand stayed on my arm.
Not moving.
Just present.
“I haven’t had a proper meal in three days,” I admitted, mostly to the tablecloth.
He leaned in, voice like smoke. “You’ll need the energy.”
The food came. I barely tasted it.
Because his hand had moved.
Slid slightly lower.
Still on my upper arm, but now stroking—small, idle movements that made it hard to think.
I took a sip of wine.
